


A Fake Smile, a Careless Touch

by Lazydesk



Series: Sometimes Things Bend and Sometimes They Break [2]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Baby Chris and Victor, Chris is a good best friend, M/M, stripper poles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-31
Updated: 2016-12-31
Packaged: 2018-09-13 14:11:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9127216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lazydesk/pseuds/Lazydesk
Summary: Victor had never loved anyone as much as he loved his mother. When she passed, he stopped smiling. No one noticed. No one ever did. It was easy to distract someone with a pretty smile, an easy laugh, and a careless touch.





	

"Clipped wings, I was a broken thing  
Had a voice, had a voice but I could not sing  
You would wind me down  
I struggled on the ground, oh  
So lost, the line had been crossed  
Had a voice, had a voice but I could not talk  
You held me down  
I struggle to fly now"

-"Bird Set Free", Sia

                Victor had gotten his hair from his mother. The incredibly pale color and soft texture had always been a source of intrigue. Anna Nikiforov had been loving and encouraging towards her son. It seemed unusual for a child to move with the type of grace that Victor did. Early in his life she had managed to get him on the ice. Wisps of silver hair fluttered in the breeze as he moved across the mirror like surface. Even though he fell, Victor was quick to get back up. In those moments she couldn’t have been prouder. Every step of the way he had smile on his face and a genuine love for what he was doing. As a single mother, she did her best to give him the life he deserved. Whether that was extra skating lessons or ballet, Anna made sure her son had the best. Victor had never loved anyone as much as he loved his mother. When she passed, he stopped smiling.

            The world wasn’t content to let him mourn in peace. Yakov had been there, a solid and constant shield. No one noticed when he didn’t smile like he used to. The sides of his lips turned up and he flashed a little teeth, but it never met his eyes. The hair that had barely brushed his shoulders kept getting longer and longer until it fell to the center of his back. Victor liked the length because it did a number of things; with his youthful body, the hair reflected a delicate sense of femininity and androgyny. The other thing it did was hide his eyes, that way when he smiled or talked no one would see how much it pained him. Overtime he perfected the process. It was easy to distract someone with a pretty smile, an easy laugh, and a careless touch. No one noticed. No one ever did. Because no one ever thought to look past the confidence and glittering looks.

            It had been Chris who had first wormed his way into Victor’s space. The boy was gentle and kind, a genuine person who saw Victor for what he was. He was also unapologetic in a way that Victor wished he could achieve. They had been seated on the bathroom floor of Chris’s flat. It was summer and they had nothing better to than act like silly teenagers. With comb in hand, Chris ran the brush through Victor’s tangled locks. It was nice to be cared for. At twenty-four Victor was painfully aware of how lonely he was. There had been so many one night stands and teasing kisses from people he didn’t bother to remember the next day. Even the people he skated with held little importance. Yet Chris had become his best friend, they had bonded almost instantly. Victor’s had placed on the podium and had been struggling to keep his smile bright. Chris had taken second, and to Victor’s surprise, had placed a reassuring hand in the middle of his shoulders. The touch hadn’t asked for anything, not for sex or fame. It was a simple comfort and Victor had accepted it without question.

            With a gentle tug Chris pulled Victor’s head back to rest against his shoulder. Relaxing instantly he smiled in response to Chris’s demand for his attention.

            “As beautiful as you hair is, have you ever thought about cutting it short?” Chris asked, a curious lilt in his voice. Panic had swelled in Victor throat so he simply let out a huff. Chuckling, Chris swept some of the baby hairs off of Victor’s forehead. “Your eyes are beautiful, they should be shown off. They express so much.” That caused Victor to pause, absent mindedly picking at the polish on his nails.  Why would he want to show the world something so private, feelings not meant for them? Then  pictured what Yakov’s expression would be if he came back to Russia with short hair. He pictured the way the media would react to something as simple as a haircut. Looking up at Chris, he smiled.

            “Do you have scissors?” He asked and Chris burst into laughter. Slipping out from behind Victor he opened one of the drawers and held the sheers up. Time to surprise the world again.

            The bathroom floor was covered in long silver hair. The whole experience had been wonderful.  Chris ran his fingers through the short strands and kissed the corner of Victor’s lips.

            “Beautiful,” He commented. The eyes that stared back at Victor in the mirror were a rich blue, a little sad and tired but not what he expected. Long arms slipped around his mid-section and big green eyes watched him. “How about we spend a night on the town to celebrate the new look?” Leave it to Chris to want to crawl into bed with a beautiful boy after such a somber moment. Victor scoffed but nodded his head in agreement. That night they drank and danced. The music created the perfect distraction from Victor’s feelings. Later when he stumbled backwards into his bedroom at Chris’s apartment with a beautiful man’s lips on his, Victor found he didn’t care. When those lips trailed lower and grazed his neck, he didn’t care. When their clothes were gone and their bodies moved together in a dance too familiar, Victor found he couldn’t bring himself to give a damn.

            The next person Victor found himself somehow attached to was Yuri Plisetski. The young boy was nothing like Chris. The tiny blond could cuss like a sailor and had a personality like sandpaper. Yet Victor admired the boy’s ability to surprise him and terrorize Yakov. The way he skated was similar to how he had once been, rage filled and angry at the world. The jumps he executed showed skill far beyond his years. When Victor had offered to choreograph a routine for Yuri, he had seen the twinkle in the boy’s eyes. He still hungered for victory. It was the thing Victor missed. To him, victory was almost assured at that point in his career. It wasn’t until he witnessed Yuri land a quad toe loop with a mastery that normally took years that he skated out on the ice and offered quiet advice. Though he claimed he didn’t need Victor’s help, Yuri followed instructions beautifully.

            Abandonment was what drew them together. Victor’s father had left right after he was born and his mother had died. Yuri Plisetski’s father had died when he was a child and his mother was not too keen on raising her son alone. They were both bitter. They both knew suffering. The difference was Yuri made his suffering known. With a loud personality and brutal set of words the boy intentionally alienated anyone he thought might drag him down. He poured his heart and soul into skating routines but gave little care to practicing. There was no one who could keep up with Yuri in his age bracket. The arrogance worked in Yuri’s favor. Yakov allowed Victor to advise Yuri, hoping that the older Russian could achieve some form of temperance in Yuri’s personality. The poor old man couldn’t be more wrong. Victor had been difficult to deal with but Yuri was like a hurricane, brutal and unforgiving. In his heart, Victor hoped the boy never lost the fire that made him exceptional.

            When Victor wins his fifth consecutive gold medal and it feels emptier than ever. The sport he had grown up loving, the thing the thing that made him feel close to his mother, was starting to feel like a chore. Chris stood beside him, one hand on his medal and the other on Victor’s back. They had stepped down, the Swiss man keeping a safe distance. The reporters were loud and the flashes from their cameras were grating. By the end, Victor’s face hurt from the smiles and lies he had spouted. He wasn’t satisfied with his win, not when he had barely tried. As they were leaving the arena he spotted a lovely man with eyes that reminded Victor of whiskey and honey. Glasses hung low on his nose, having slowly slipped down. Those eyes were watching him far off and sad. Without hesitation he offered a photo, the reaction was instant. The man’s face fell and he turned away without a word. It had been years since Victor had faced such blatant rejection. It burned against his cheeks. It made him curious.

            Yuuri Katsuki was the man’s name. Ever observant Chris had filled him in. The two of them were sat in the bar area of the banquet; the seemingly endless stream of congrats and hellos had finally ended.

            “Why are you curious?” Chris asked, eyebrow cocked. From his seat at the bar he watched Yuuri Katsuki down what had to be his fifth glass of champagne. Swiveling around, Victor turned to face Chris and sighed.

            “He rejected me.” Victor shrugged his shoulders and downed the rest of his Salty dog. The bite of the gin felt good and his mind was starting to buzz. Tonight Victor felt like flying. Beside him Chris blinked in surprise and then a dangerous smirk graced his lips. “No,” Victor said before Chris could utter a single word. There was long history of Chris getting Victor into situations he had no business being in.

            “He’s pretty,” Chris commented offhandedly. Though the smirk had shrunk, there was still a smug smile tugging at his lips; it was best to let Chris make his plans without  interruption. Silence meant that he didn’t take refusal as a personal challenge.  “It is a rare thing that Victor Nikiforov has someone tell him no. Intrigued?” He leaned into Victor’s personal space. It wasn’t until they saw Yuri coming towards them with a single minded determination in his steps that Victor realized his night was going to get far more interesting.

            Somehow, in a series of events Victor couldn’t even begin to understand there was a pole in the center of the banquet hall. Chris was nearly naked, long legs wrapped around the pole. At least he had job options if skating didn’t pan out. Then Yuuri had to go and join him. They moved in a sensual display of beauty and strength. Bodies moving together, the two of them moved in a way that Victor never would have expected. Heat flushed his face as Yuri lost his pants. The small Japanese man turned to him, whiskey eyes sparkling and winked. A few moments passed before Victor could properly breathe again. Honestly Victor would have to thank Chris for this later because there was a small and hesitant smile creeping slowly onto his face and exhilarating arousal bubbling deep inside his belly.

            Dancing with Yuuri brought Victor joy. They spun and smiled and he felt something stir anxiously in his chest. Even though he was drunk as a skunk, Yuuri retained a tireless grace as he joined their hands together and lowered Victor into a dip. Those beautiful eyes lit up as if struck with sudden inspiration.

            “A dance off!” Yuuri exclaimed. A grin broke out on Victor’s face. With arms wrapped around his waist, Yuuri swayed his hips against Victor’s. It took strength Victor didn’t know he possessed not to simply whisk Yuuri away. “If I win this dance off…you’ll become my coach right? Be my coach Victor!” The words were uttered with drunken affection. That was the moment the he knew that Yuuri Katsuki was who he wanted to be with. A young man filled with so much joy and life, had brazenly flirted with him and asked Victor to be his coach. Yes was the only word on the tip of his tongue.

            Four months had gone by and life was…well it was monotonous. Yuuri had not spoken to him since the banquet. Each day Victor’s life was the rink or sitting at home. He did not go out. He did not try and sleep with anyone. All in all he had fallen into what felt like an insurmountable rut in his career. Makkachin was curled up peacefully on his chest and Victor ran his fingers through curly fur. Victor would retire, at least for the season. Yakov would be beyond furious, he could already see the old man’s red face. It was time to quit and he knew people saw it coming. A ding from his phone pulled him away from his thoughts. A message with a video attached.  _Katsuki Yuuri tried to skate Victor’s FS program (stay close to me)_. The breath in his lungs was ripped out. Though the volume was muted, he could hear the music echoing in his ears and it was Yuri’s body who made it. Yuri looked more gentle, more closed off than at the banquet. There was a simple longing in Yuuri’s eyes and movements tha _t_ Victor _responded to._ It was a serenade for the soul, one that made his heart soar. When the video ended, he set down his phone and looked at the door. Japan, he was going to Japan.

            Turns out, showing up at Yuuri’s home naked after not speaking in months was not his best idea. Yuuri had wiped the steam from his glasses, jaw on the ground. After he announced that he planned to become Yuuri’s coach, several noises left the young man’s mouth. Most of them were confused and broken but then shock won over. What surprised him was how timid Yuuri was, avoiding touch or eye contact in general. For some reason the playful dynamic they had accomplished at the banquet had vanished. Instead there were agonizing blushes and softly spoken words. It took him a few days to realize that Yuuri was an inherently anxious person. After he understood that, Victor backed off and offered subtle signs of affection. Whether that was praise or a reassuring touch, Victor gave Yuuri what he needed. For perhaps the first time in his life he was giving someone his everything. In the end he saw glimpses of the boy who winked at him whilst dancing on that god forsaken pole. They made their journey, stumbling occasionally along the way. They made it to Barcelona.

            The ring sat in his pocket heavy and overbearing. Chris was the only person who knew, for days he had been sending quiet encouragement Victor’s way. Yuuri and Chris got on surprisingly well despite their opposite personalities. After their dip in the pool, Chris had launched himself alongside Victor into Yuuri’s side of the bed. Despite his sputtering and protests, he had allowed both of them to crawl in next to him. It lasted seconds before he was bolting out of the bed, running the shower for Victor and brewing the coffee Chris had requested. With a subtle enough motion, Chris leaned towards Victor.

            “When?” He questioned.  Turning his head, Victor rested easily against Chris’s shoulder.

            “Tomorrow,” He had answered confidently.  Pleased, Chris chucked and ran his gaze over Yuuri. Victor didn’t mind Chris’s polite attraction to Yuuri, if anything it was his best friend’s version of approval.

              Turns out Yuuri had an amazing talent of ruining Victor’s plans. They stood on the steps of the church. Yuuri’s dainty fingers peeled away the leather gloves Victor wore. With no hesitation, he slid the gold band he had just purchased over Victor’s finger. In the end Yuuri had beat Victor to the punch. There wasn’t much to say. So Victor slid the ring he had been carrying around for weeks over Yuuri’s finger. It wasn’t until they were walking away from the church that Yuuri realized that Victor had his ring at the ready.

            “Victor!” He uttered, sounding utterly scandalized.  With a soft chuckle, he leaned in and kissed Yuuri’s temple. Lingering, he just breathed in the familiar scent of the one that he loved.

            Of all the things Victor expected to top off the night, Yuuri’s confusion about the banquet was not it. In all the time he had spent with Yuuri, he had never seen him so mortified. As Victor scrolled through the pictures and filled in the blank space in Yuuri’s memories he couldn’t help but smile.  For months he had been chasing Yuuri on the assumption he remembered their night in Russia. In Yuuri’s mind, Victor had shown up on his doorstep unexpectedly and naked. Victor thought he was too shy to admit what happened or was playing hard to get. No, Yuuri hadn’t had the slightest idea that Victor had followed him on a drunken request. Then Chris managed to ask the most important question of the night. Who had taught Yuuri how to pole dance. Yuuri’s eyes narrowed on Phichit in an instant. The Thai boy smiled and rubbed the back of his head, then shrugged shamelessly.

            The night ended and Victor settled into bed, wrapping Yuuri up tightly in his arms. Interlacing their fingers, he admired the gold bands. A promise of a beautiful life right before his eyes. After years of loneliness, he had found a partner in the last place he had expected. Yuuri Katsuki never stopped being surprising. Victor Nikiforov, man that had fought his battles alone for years, had fallen in love with a boy who had pole danced drunkenly into his heart. The universe was often times cruel but he thanked god for putting him on earth at the exact time as Yuuri. He thanked god for letting them skate on the same ice. He thanked god for letting them fall in love and cherish each other. Pressing a kiss to the back of Yuuri’s neck, he closed his eyes. There was no place better than this.

**Author's Note:**

> I had a blast writing this and I hope Ya'll enjoy it. The feedback of my last few fics has been incredibly supportive. I cannot thank you enough.
> 
> I love hearing from you all. It means the world to me.  
> -Avery


End file.
